


I'm an Excellent Kisser

by Zandra_Court



Category: Starsky & Hutch
Genre: Gen, M/M, post-ep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-07
Updated: 2012-03-07
Packaged: 2017-11-01 14:32:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/357903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zandra_Court/pseuds/Zandra_Court
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A post-scene for "Death in a Different Place"  Starsky takes Hutch's criticism of his kissing personally.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm an Excellent Kisser

_“Would you say that two guys who spend 75% or more of their time together have certain tendencies?” Hutch had asked Starsky, who was laid out in the back seat behind him as he drove._

_“Well, yeah, I guess. What are you talking about?”_

_“I’m talking about us, you and me. Seventy-five percent of the time, we spend together. And you’re not even a good kisser.”_

_Starsky sits up and leans over the seat. “How do you know that?”_

 

Starsky was suddenly really annoyed and he didn’t know why. “I happen to be an excellent kisser. I’m an excellent lover too, for that matter. You don’t know shit.” His annoyance was changing to anger now, but he still knew it was irrational.

“Easy, Partner. Just trying to prove a point.” Hutch was smiling as he glanced in the rear view at Starsky’s face. 

Starsky settled back into the back seat again and said, “It’s just not funny right now.”

Hutch was suddenly serious. “I wasn’t trying to be funny. You’ve been off about the LT being gay and I’m simply pointing out that fact. Why is this so hard for you? You’ve never seemed prejudiced before.”

“I’m not prejudiced.” Starsky bristled. “I meant what I told Peter Whitelaw. I don’t think it’s something to be ashamed of.”

“Then what’s got you all tied up?” Hutch knew this wasn’t a conversation Starsk wanted to have. He wasn’t sure he did either, but since he’d started it, there was an obligation to finish it.

Starsky sighed. “I guess it’s that I didn’t know. How could I not know? I grew up next door to John Blaine. I ate dinner at his house all the time. I babysat their kids. Why didn’t I know?”

“Maybe you didn’t want to know? Like his wife, it was easier to ignore it?” Hutch kept glancing at him in the mirror, but Starsky just looked out the side window.

“No, I really didn’t know. There were no clues. No sideways glances. No flirting or anything.”

“You mean to you?” Hutch asked quietly

“To anyone. I guess, given how close I was to his family and working for him for those two years, I’d have seen something or felt it somehow.” Starsky sighed, laid his head back and closed his eyes. Hutch fell silent, he was glad for the reprieve from this conversation. He listened to the road noise and felt the wind on his face as Hutch’s LTD sped along. _What else don’t I know?_

Starsky felt the car slow to a stop and opened his eyes. He’d drifted off to sleep and now they were parked at his house.

“Thought we were gonna go to Huggy’s.” He half-yawned as he sat up and started to climb over to the front seat.

“Didn’t want to. Besides, I’m hungry.” Hutch said as he got out of the car and held the door open for Starsky.

“As long as you don’t make me eat wheat germ or aspic or any of that other crap you call food.”

“Geez, I thought a little nap would make you less moody. You like my cooking, so shut up.” Hutch said as he closed the car door and followed Starsky up the stairs.

Once inside, Starsky went into his bedroom and changed into his favorite denim cut-offs. That was one good thing about going home; he could wear as little clothing as possible, especially in this heat. Suddenly, that thought caught in his head. For the first time ever, he felt self-conscious about walking out of his bedroom wearing only his cut-offs. He grabbed one of his button-up shirts, threw it on, doing up a few buttons, then changed his mind and unbuttoned it again. _I don’t want to *look* like I’m trying to cover up._ But why did he even care at all? He’d been totally naked in front of Hutch before and always teased Hutch about his bashfulness. What was happening to him? 

He heard a crash from his kitchen and ran out the bedroom door.

“How do you find anything in here?” Hutch growled in frustration as pots and lids rained down from the top cabinet.

“I don’t go in there. That’s all the stuff my ma sends me that I don’t know how to use.” Starsky laughed as he grabbed a beer from the fridge.

Hutch selected the pans he wanted and tried to stack the ones he didn’t into some kind of order back on the high shelf. “Most people keep pans under the stove or lower down y’know. Why does your mom send you this stuff? She knows you don’t cook.”

“I think she’s hoping whenever I get a girl, I’ll look like I can provide her with cookware.” Starsky sat on the stool at the end of the kitchen and watched Hutch work.

“Your mom is persistent and hopeful in the face of lost causes. I like that in a woman,” Hutch said as he went about putting water in one pot and some oil in another.

“You’re doing it again. Why are you ragging on how I am with women? I will meet another girl someday. Just haven’t felt like looking much since...” His voice trailed off as he thought of Terry and tried to block the image of her lifeless body on that hospital bed from re-entering his head. As much as he hated himself for it, that memory was what held strongest. If he couldn’t think about her laughing and teasing him about his Monopoly skills, he didn’t like to think of her at all.

“Sorry. I’m not meaning to mess with you.”

“Then what are you doing?” Starsky challenged, standing up and pacing a bit. “And what was that shit about ‘tendencies’? Then you attack my kissing and getting a girl. You got something to say then say it.” 

Hutch turned toward him, warming pots temporarily forgotten. “What sort of clues were you expecting to tip you off that John Blaine was gay? What do you think you would have seen that would have told you the truth?”

That wasn’t what Starsky expected. “I don’t know. Like what I said. Looks, flirting, seeing him eyeball some young rookie...something. I’d notice.”

“Maybe like him collapsing into his partner’s arms when he was sick or holding his hand when he was afraid or patting a man’s stomach as he walked past him?”

Starsky was suddenly very uncomfortable. “Why are you trying to do that? You and I ain’t gay!”

Hutch gave him an exasperated half-smile. “So?” he said and he went back to his cooking.

“So? So? So, what you and I do is different. Are you... are you saying you think when we touch that there’s something wrong with it?”

Hutch looked at him squarely. “Right now, I’m more concerned with whether _you_ think there is.”

“No!” Starsky spat out. “At least, I never did before.”

“That’s my point, buddy. You’re not upset about Blaine. You’re upset about us. About what his being gay means about you and me, mostly you.”

Starsky just stared at him. Was Hutch right? The waves of unease building in his gut told him that something Hutch said was affecting him. “I don’t wanna talk about this anymore.” 

Hutch watched Starsky walk over and flip on the TV. “OK, Starsk. Dodgers should be playing.” He went back to fixing dinner.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You really are a good cook, Hutch.” Starsky set his plate on the coffee table and picked up his beer can. His fourth? Fifth? Whatever. The anxiety that had been pushing on him for days seemed to have left. Dinner, beer, watching the game with Hutch, all of it was familiar and normal. 

“You eat like a damn billy goat, but I’m glad you liked it.” Hutch said as he picked up the plates and took them to the kitchen.

When he returned, Hutch shifted on the couch and stretched his legs across Starsky’s lap, leaning against the arm rest. Starsky stiffened. “What’s wrong with you?” Hutch demanded. “I’ve done this a thousand times.”

Starsky knew that was true. He really had never cared before. Why was he so freaked out by touching the man he hugged and held so often? He couldn’t explain it to himself, so how could he to Hutch? 

His partner was staring at him, he could feel it, but Starsky kept his eyes on the TV screen. He wanted to talk, words just couldn’t form.

“I went through this too you know.” Hutch finally broke the silence. That made Starsky look at him.

“Whaddya mean?” Even though it was cheap beer, he could feel a buzz starting to take hold. 

“Our first year together. I don’t think you California folks understand that the rest of the country doesn’t work like you do. Where I came from, cold wasn't just from winter. I think the last time I hugged or kissed my own mother was when I was nine. Earlier for my dad. In Minnesota, you don’t touch, not in public and definitely not anyone you aren’t trying to score. Even then, you better be damn sure what you’re doing or some girl’s apt to think you’re proposing.

"It’s not like that here. You hug and kiss people you barely know as a way of saying ‘hello’. My freshman year, I was a walking hard-on for all the girls who would walk up and wrap their arms around me. Took me a long time to not think every one of them wanted to fuck me on the spot. Then, just as I’d gotten used to that, I met you and suddenly had to deal with that kind of physical attention from a man." Hutch glanced up to meet Starsky's eyes before continuing. 

"You were just so natural with it though and part of why I came out here was to live in a way that felt different than where I’d grown up. So I learned to roll with it.” Hutch leaned over to the coffee table and picked up his beer.

“Why didn’t you ever say anything? I would have, I don’t know, stopped or done something, I don’t know. I’d never want you to feel bad.”

“I know. That’s why I kept it to myself. I figured, it was my hang-up to get over. You have such an easy way about you Starsk. It’s one of the things I admire most about you. I’d never want you to be anything other than what you are.” Hutch placed a hand on Starsky’s shoulder. 

Starsky rested his arm on his partner’s leg. “Before today, I never questioned how we are. But what does that mean? Is it possible for us to be gay and not even know it?”

“I...I don’t know. I mean, I...” Hutch had started to stutter a bit, which Starsky always found kinda sweet, so he waited patiently for his partner to find his words. Finally, Hutch took a breath and said, “I like sex with women. I like looking at women. I don’t look at men walking down the street and get turned on. So, that would tell me that I’m not gay.”Starsky nodded. That was what he felt too.

“But...” Hutch's voice trailed off. Starsky looked straight into Hutch’s soft blue eyes. “But what?”

“You’re different Starsk. Our partnership...you hold a place in my life no one has ever come close to. Each time you’ve been shot, kidnapped, poisoned...fuck, when are you going to stop making me worry that you’re going to die every few months?”

“Those weren’t my fault! You’re the dumbass who got kidnapped and strung-out, over a girl I might add, and kept it a secret what she was into...You’ve taken years off my life!”

“Are we seriously gonna play ‘Who’s Worried More’? My point is...I love you. I know that, deep in my heart. I don’t know what that means though. Right now, all this,” Hutch waved his hand between them, “this is enough for me. I don’t want more and I know I don’t want less. Does that make me gay? Maybe, maybe not. Don’t really give a shit to be honest. Do you?”

“I guess when you put it that way...” Starsk said dryly as he patted Hutch’s knee and then rested his arm on the long leg, knowing that he wanted to stroke it just a little. Hutch looked back at the game as they sat in silence again.

“Hutch?”

“Hmm?”

“What if that changes? What if one of us were to want more or …? What would happen to us then?” 

“I don’t know Starsk. I guess we’ll deal with that then. Can you live with that?”

“Yeah, I s'pose. Go get me another beer would ya?”

“Do I look like your maid? Go get your own beer.”

“I can’t. You have me trapped.”

Hutch lifted his legs up in a perfect lever, tightening his abs and quads. Starsky pushed his legs forward, causing Hutch to roll off the couch.

“Show off.” Starsky laughed, looking at his partner tumbled on the floor. 

“You’re just jealous of my perfect physical shape.” Hutch teased, any remaining tension fully broken now.

“No way. I’m so much more handsome than you, Blondie.” Starsky grabbed Hutch’s ankles and lifted, keeping him from being able to get up.

“At least I don’t need some jacked-up sports car to get laid.” Hutch used his free leg to sweep Starsky's out from under him and soon they were fully wrestling on the floor. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Starsky lay in bed, but he could hear Hutch snoring on the couch in the front room. There was a part of him that wished his partner was lying next to him, just to feel his closeness. But things were also OK as they were. Maybe for once he needed to let go of “What if” and just take each day, each case, each moment with Hutch as it came. Up until now, their instincts for each other had served them well. What if now it was time to stop over-thinking it? What if...and he drifted off to sleep.


End file.
